


The End of All Things

by EndofEras



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Broken Promises, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, Falling In Love, Heartbreak, Intimacy, Kissing, Lesbian Character, Literal Sleeping Together, Love, Love Triangles, Sleeping Together, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6383248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndofEras/pseuds/EndofEras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara Anthony is the "Woman out of time". She's done it, she's defeated the Institute, saved her friends and can start to live the life she remembers, albeit, a wildly skewed version of it, and a reporter girlfriend who she thinks is her soulmate. She finally believes she can rest, settle down, and try and rebuild what she had taken from her. She'll settle down with the girl of her dreams and raise a family...<br/>..</p>
<p>..that is, until she meets a fiery redhead named Cait. Relationships and loyalties are tested in this love triangle fic, set in the beginning, middle, and end of Fallout 4. Follows F!SS, Cait, Piper Wright, and friends Nick Valentine and Paladin Danse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is my veeeerrryyy first attempt at writing a fic. Please be gentle with me! Thank you so much and any or all feedback is appreciated!  
> E.E.

"War...War never changes." 

This is a story of love. And mainly how I screwed up. 

I had it all. I had rid the Commonwealth of the "boogeyman under the bed", the Institute. I had the safety of knowing the people I cared about were safe, that maybe life could somehow return to normal. Maybe. I had the comfort of friends, I had the bad behind me..or so I thought.

But most of all, I had Piper. 

Meeting Piper outside of Diamond City was a trip, a good one.. One minute, I'm feeling the white heat flash on my skin and watching a mushroom cloud form over what was formerly my home, ushered into a "decontamination pod" and the next, I'm waking up to destruction. My wife shot in front of me, my son taken to God knows where, and the world as I know is a nuclear radiated wasteland where now even the cockroaches try and kill you. 

When I eventually came to, I broke out of my underground prison, my personal hell hole, Vault 111. I met up with Codsworth and we began the trek to a place called "Diamond City". Called by some as the "Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth", I expected great things to come from it. But I didn't expect the greatest thing. What was that thing you ask? Piper. 

Piper was standing there, hands waving, voice raised, and flailing about in her red leather trench coat and press cap. I was a little unsure if this was actually the place. Surely an old, run-down and dilapidated baseball stadium couldn't hold a city that was referred to as "The Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth"? It was there, at that dilapidated baseball stadium, that I met Piper. 

She whispered to me "Hey...you want into Diamond City, right?...Play along". I obliged with a single nod. "What's that? You're a trader up from Quincy? You have enough supplies to keep the general store stocked for a whole month? Huh. So, whaddaya say Danny, you gonna open the gate and let us in? Or are you gonna be the one talking to crazy Myrna about losing out on all of this supply". Much to the chagrin of the guard, the gate opened. 

Piper was clever, smart, and gorgeous to top it all off. She had dark brown hair, emerald eyes, and the most stunning lips I'd ever seen on a person. She was well kept for a wasteland reporter, with her small press cap and torn red trench coat. She was absolutely ravishing, even if she was just using me to get back into her place of living.  
It was from then on, I knew, Piper Wright was something not to be let go of. 

That is, until I met Cait.

I overheard some of the guards mention a place called the "Combat Zone" during my time in Diamond City. Located deep in the former hub of Boston, I was eager to check out a new place. I marked it on my Pipboy's map and headed out, Dogmeat and my worn wood double barrel shotgun I had given the nickname "Deliverance" in tow.  
I walked through the worn and pitted doors of the Combat Zone. The atmosphere was something you'd see at a grunge concert, rough, smelling of both piss and alcohol, and dimly lit. The announcer, Tommy, boomed overhead right as a faded red head woman swung a hard right hook, knocking her opponent to the floor in a flurry of blood mixed with spit. She hoisted her hands up high in victory. As soon as I took another step, shots rang out. I flung myself behind a metal table, shakily slamming two twelve gauge shells into the receiver. The sound of the receiver locking was oddly satisfying, but I clearly did not have time to start fantasizing about firearms and their various sounds.

I vaulted over the table, blindly firing one barrel of the shotgun and hitting one of the raiders. The thud of man going down gave me a slight bit of satisfaction. I took aim and blew a baseball size chunk into the raider who had foolishly taken cover behind a cloth chair positioned just before the stage. I heard a woman's laugh as he fell to the ground.

I ducked downed behind what looked to be a makeshift bar. The firefight that was breaking out was surely not helping any part of it, as the wooden sign fell off of its hinges and hitting me square on the head. My shotgun clattered to the floor and I clutched my head. I looked up to see a dark clothed raider aiming his gun to finish me off. I closed my eyes, waiting for the shot.

Instead of that, I heard a wild scream. The faded red head who was just on stage marrying her fist to a raider's face was slamming her fists into the man's ribs. The man grunted and yelled with each blow dealt by her. She was obviously trained, following a one-two punch method. Each blow leaving a loud crack in the air causing the man was being thrown back with each hit. 

One-Two, One-Two, One-Two.

I groaned, rolling and writhing on the floor as my vision blurred, trying to reach for the revolver on the side of my pants. Cait was more relenting than I was, she continued going at the man. Left, right, left, right, each of her blows leaving louder cracks and thuds. My vision slowly steadying, I finally grabbed the revolver and pointed it at the raider, but I was too late. Cait had already slammed his forehead twice into the side of a chair. He was dead on arrival, blood and brain matter covering the chair and her fists. She chuckled as she started walking towards me, the lifeless body falling from its new found perch. 

I holstered my revolver, slowly clambering to my feet. I stood up and looked at her. She was young, short, somewhat petite but whatever weight obviously being muscle. Her hair was matted and she looked like she hadn't bathed in weeks. Pick marks and scars littered her arms from what looked like syringe and IV style injections, her eyes bloodshot and wild.  
"I guess I owe you some gratitude for saving my ass back there" I said, extending my hand.  
"More like ya clearin' house and gittin' rid of all me fan base" she said in a deep, thick, Irish accent. She looked me up and down several times. "Me name's Cait if you havn't guessed to ask that yet, darlin' " she said in a smug tone, gripping my hand and shaking it to the point I felt I was going to lose circulation if she kept holding on. I wiped my hand off on my pants. She didn't bother to wipe hers. 

"So what brings ye here to my littl home, the Combat Zone?" she asked, still carrying a smug and bespoke appearance about her. I unholestered my revolver, poking out the spent shell and reloaded a new one in. "Just passing through, heard rumors about this place. Thought I might try getting shot by people instead of green humans on steroids" I chuckled in my reply to her.  
"Seems like ye weren't lookin' very hard then. Don't lie to me sweetie, what were you actually lookin' for?" she replied, turning around and pouring herself a glass of whiskey. She downed it in one gulp before offering a small cough  
I looked down, voice strained. "I'm looking for someone, someone who needs to pay for something they did to me. For what they did to my family.".  
Her facial expression didn't change, pouring herself another shot and downing it the same as the first.  
"I never got yer name, gorgeous" she said, moving from the side of the bar, closer to me.  
"Clara" I said, looking into her eyes, the unfathomable shade of brown they were.  
"I'll be seeing ye around, Clara" she said, before pressing her lips onto mine, the taste of alcohol transferring to my own. Before I knew what had hit me, she was gone. 

I knew this wouldn't be the last I'd see of the redhead.


End file.
